Shadows of the Past
by Nachtsider
Summary: CHAPTER SEVENTEEN UP!
1. Chapter 1

Author's notes: This tale, penned by me, Nachtsider, is based on the seminal _manga_ known as 'El-Hazard, the Magnificent World', which is the brainchild of Hidetomo Tsubura, Hiroki Hayashi and Ryoe Tsukimura. Set in-between the time Ifurita was beamed to Earth after shutting down the berserk Eye of God and the time Makoto rescued her, my fanfic is an attempt to explain several mysterious and unexplained issues present in the original story, such as what actually happened during the 'Great War'. **Bearing in mind that all original concepts, characters, their distinctive likenesses and related elements featured in this publication are my property and may not be used without my express permission**, enjoy the story, and feel free to drop this author a line at the relevant electronic mail address (nachtsider at yahoo dot com)!

**SHADOWS OF THE PAST**

**CHAPTER ONE: MAKOTO'S LAMENT**

The lightning flashes through my skull; mine eyeballs ache and ache; my whole beaten brain seems as beheaded, and rolling on some stunning ground. – Herman Melville, _Moby Dick_

A sultry young woman, her luxuriant ebony tresses done up in an extravagant hairdo and her slender figure tucked into an emerald-green outfit that identified her as the Elemental Priestess of Wind soared effortlessly up to the immense artificial moon floating over Floristica City known as the Eye of God. She landed gracefully at the edge of one of the numerous oblong platforms that covered its exterior.

Four whole months had gone by since the day she last went up there. That fateful day was the day the El-Hazardian people had triumphed over the Bugrom, the Phantom Tribe and the evil Demon Gods Ab-Zahal and Jinnistacia. It was the day that the benevolent Demon God Ifurita had saved El-Hazard from being destroyed by a malfunctioned Eye of God and was banished across space and time in doing so. It was also the day that the Wind Priestess' good friend literally began dying bit by bit, his heart breaking due to the fact that he and his beloved Ifurita were separated indefinitely.

The friend in question was sitting under one of the colossal antennae that protruded from the Eye's surface. He was a tall lad with unkempt brown hair, clad in an immaculate blue high school uniform. He did not notice the Wind Priestess land, for he was concentrating on reading a large, leather-bound volume that he had borrowed from the Royal Archives. Lying before him was an ornately sculpted, two-meter long staff of coldly gleaming metal - Ifurita's Power Key Staff. A frustrated look then manifested itself upon his boyish face. He tossed the tome aside.

"I was so sure that this manuscript contained information that would aid me in conveying Ifurita home," he said to himself as he picked up the staff and walked over to retrieve the book, "and yet it did not. Will the answers I seek continue to elude me?" He then became aware of the green-clad, feminine figure standing a few feet away from him. Turning to face her, he said: "Oh, it's you, Afura. Are you here to take me back to the palace?"

"No, Makoto," she replied. "Princess Rune did not send me, I came on my own to see how you were keeping. Everybody is worried sick about you. You neither sleep nor eat and you've pulled back from all who care for you."

Makoto turned away and stared off into the western sky, which was a blaze of sunset red. Trying to put his feelings into simple words had always been difficult. Taking a deep breath, he gave it his best shot.

"Afura," he said in a voice brimming with emotion, "have you ever cherished someone to the point where it is virtually impossible for you to get out him or her out of your mind? I certainly do. I see Ifurita every time I close my eyes, knowing that she will faithfully wait for the day that she will meet me and send me to El-Hazard." He closed his eyes and tried in vain to blot the mental anguish from his psyche before continuing: "Her energy was at a perilously low level when we rendezvoused at the ruins under my school. I dread that she may not survive."

The Wind Priestess walked over to Makoto and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You love Ifurita more than I have ever seen anyone love before," she sighed. "You will be reunited with her. That is, if you don't kill yourself in trying to achieve your goal. Come on, when was the last time you had a bite?"

"I... I can't recall," replied Makoto quietly, the fight and fire gone from him.

"Well, as a friend, I won't let you labor any longer without some nourishment and rest beforehand," smiled Afura.

666

Through the halls of Floristica's Imperial Palace rushed a vision of honey-blonde loveliness dressed in a simple yet tasteful dress of sky-blue silk, narrowly but deeply décolleté beneath an exquisite beaded jacket. "Oh, Afura, why did you not tell any of us that you had brought Makoto down?" she said to herself.

Arriving at the door leading to the palace kitchens, the nymphet slowly opened it and beheld Makoto sitting alone at a low oak table. He was staring blankly into a crystal goblet filled with red wine. She called out his name tentatively. He remained silent, downing the goblet's entire contents in one swift movement. Setting the cup back down, he refilled it from a nearby ewer and turned to look at his visitor with eyes reddened from drink.

"Hello, Nanami," he drawled. "Now I know why Shayla and Fuji-sensei love downing this stuff."

Nanami slowly approached him and gasped with shock upon noticing three empty wine decanters standing near his feet. "Good Lord…" she exclaimed. "Makoto, you'd better lay off the liquor or you're bound to have a monstrous hangover tomorrow morning."

A bitter chuckle worked its way past Makoto's lips. "I don't bloody care," he said, his voice slurred. He held up the goblet up to his eyes, swishing the red liquid around. "Ifurita," he murmured, his voice trembling. "Forgive my pathetic, contemptible self." He rose suddenly, hurling the goblet against the wall. It shattered into a million shiny pieces. "Despite my efforts, I remain powerless to save you! I probably will never be able to do so!"

Nanami stepped back in shock. "Makoto, you can't accept that as true! Giving up is out of the question, you vowed to bring Ifurita back whatever it would take," she said in utter disbelief at her friend's words. He had never lost faith or confidence before, even during the darkest hours of the previous conflict, and it greatly unnerved Nanami to see the condition he was in now.

Makoto stood still, breathing heavily. "I know," he said hoarsely. "That makes my pain all the more harsh." His body was then wracked by sobs, and he collapsed onto the floor. Nanami rushed to his side and caught him in her arms. Makoto cried on her shoulder, and she responded by holding him closer, gently rocking him and stroking his hair.

Several moments later, Nanami looked down at the boy, no, the man who lay fast asleep on her lap. "Not too long ago, I would have killed to hold you like this, Makoto," she murmured as she ran a hand through his hair. "Now, all I desire is to see the anguish leave you, even if it had to become my own. It isn't fair! You were instrumental in saving this world and its inhabitants from certain doom! The least you warrant for your immeasurable deed is some peace of mind…"

Tears flowed down Nanami's face at the wrongness of it all. Makoto's grief was as bad as, if not worse than the emotional breakdown that she had experienced upon realizing that he could never love her. "Such injustice," Nanami whispered to herself, unsure whether she was referring to her own predicament or Makoto's.

666

Aching with fatigue, Makoto crept into bed. Sleep soon took him. Memories of Ifurita, the beloved, the august, the beautiful, the exiled, flitted through his mind. He called aloud her name in his slumber, his voice breaking the silence of the dark night. After what seemed like an eternity, the images faded away. An unwholesome reverie then surfaced and began to perturb his rest.

In the dream, Makoto found himself standing on a Floristica street corner. The largest full moon he had ever seen, hued blood red, hung high in the stormy night sky, casting an eerie light upon the earth below. He caught his breath upon seeing that the prosperous metropolis' majestic buildings lay in smoldering ruins all around him. The roads were choked with corpses, many of them horribly mutilated.

The only edifice still standing was the Imperial Palace, its burnt and blasted silhouette dominating the skyline. Enormous black pennants, each depicting a silver scythe with blood dripping from its blade, flapped from the palace's minarets and towers. The entire vista was one of utter devastation and desolation.

Makoto awoke with a start, his pulse racing and his body covered with cold sweat. He was badly startled by the disturbing nightmare. Sitting up between the sheets for a few minutes, he breathed heavily and mopped his brow before settling down again to his much-needed rest. However, his sleep was no longer as deep as it was, for his brain was desperately trying to comprehend what his subconscious mind had just witnessed. He was known to have had premonitory visions before. Was this an omen of what was going to happen in the near or far future?

**END OF CHAPTER ONE**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO: FLASH POINT**

There is hardly a man clever enough to recognize the full extent of the wrong he does. – Francois, Duc de La Rochefoucauld, _Sentences et Maximus Morales _

South of Floristica City lay the dense Bavari Jungle, famed for its huge bong-trees, ferocious man-eating plants, beautiful waterfalls and exotic wildlife. Through this steaming green vista blundered a motley group of giant humanoid insects. These creatures' bulky exoskeletons were colored every shade of the rainbow. Some of them bore a resemblance to mantises while others looked like termites or beetles. None were below six feet in height and every bug jack of them was dog-tired.

Leading this sorry-looking squad were two immaculately dressed individuals. The first was an angular young man wearing a garish purple robe adorned with finely crafted bejeweled medals. Pale in complexion, his raven hair was severely slicked back and his cruel face radiated pure arrogance. His cohort was a shapely seductress, her body encased in figure-hugging brown silk. A silver tiara adorned her head and her pink locks tumbled over her beautifully sculpted shoulders. This woman's pus yellow, spider-like secondary eyes and gossamer-thin, dragonfly-like wings clearly indicated her non-human origin. Dew dripped off the leaves of the canopy and onto the duo as they carefully made their way hand in hand through the thick foliage.

"Generalissimo Jinnai, are you at all sure that this trip is a good idea? Our unpleasant experience with Ifurita that occurred four months ago has left me thinking that the relics of ancient El-Hazard are best left alone," groused the temptress.

"Fret not, my dear Queen Diva," replied the sharp-featured youth. "The problems with that wayward engine of war stemmed from her desire to be free of a life of death-dealing and destruction. According to the ancient texts that spurred this expedition of ours, the powerful, high-tech weaponry stored in the concealed bunker that we are headed for is non-sentient and thus unable to rebel. Once we obtain this military hardware and learn how to utilize it, our enemies will feel our righteous wrath and we will dominate the entire realm!" With that, Jinnai erupted into deafening, maniacal paroxysms of mirth that echoed through the vegetation and scared off numerous wild animals.

"Oh, my…" whispered Diva, shivering with delight. Turning to face her Bugrom minions, she confided in them: "Isn't he absolutely sexy when he does that, boys? Ooh…"

The weary flunkies rolled their eyes. On and on the contingent trudged through the tropical rain forest in the baking afternoon heat. At last, they came to a long, low building, so overgrown with moss and creepers that it initially resembled a very large and dense shrub. This structure was partially ruined and its architecture bore an uncanny similarity to that of Ifurita's tomb under the Roshtarian Imperial Palace.

"Halt!" barked Jinnai. "We've arrived at our destination. Chico, you possess the greatest physical strength. Clear the rubble blocking the building's entrance."

Grumbling inwardly, the massive red-and-blue beetle lumbered forward and set to work. Within two minutes, he had punched a neat hole through the debris large enough for a caravan to enter. Giving Chico nothing more than a light pat on the back for his pains, Jinnai sauntered through the gap, followed closely by Diva and the other Bugrom.

The edifice, which had clearly once been a depot, was chock-full of armaments that ranged from small arms to artillery pieces. They looked so futuristic that they could have come straight out of a science fiction movie. The Bugrom were exuberant, lovingly fingering the weapons like children fawning over new toys. Jinnai, however, could hardly contain his disgust.

"Just look at these doohickeys, Queen Diva!" he bellowed. "Centuries of neglect have left them in an utterly dreadful condition! They're covered with rust, their inner workings are corroded and water has entered their electronic systems! I doubt they'll be serviceable in a couple of hundred years! They're useless to our cause! We've come all this way for nothing!" Out of anger and frustration, Jinnai booted the wheel of a wrecked howitzer and only succeeded in badly bruising his toes.

"Don't despair, Generalissimo Jinnai," said Diva in dulcet tones, taking off Jinnai's shoe and massaging his throbbing foot. "We may gain something out of this trip yet. I spy a device over there that looks almost intact. It may be functional."

She pointed out what looked like a mainframe that sat at the rear of the depot. Unlike most of the joint's contents, this apparatus was virtually undamaged by time and the elements. It was large in the extreme, painted jet-black and covered with a myriad of switches, dials, displays and buttons. Upon seeing this gadget, Jinnai forgot his pain. Gently pushing Diva away, he limped over to the device and examined it thoroughly.

"Well, what do you know, my queen, it _is _functional," grinned Jinnai. "This machine looks intimidating and therefore means business," he deduced. "It must be a powerful weapon, and powerful weapons are exactly what we're looking for." An evil grin twisted his countenance and words only the Devil could have cooked up exited his lips: "I think I'll fire up this baby and see what it exactly does…"

Before Diva or the Bugrom could stop him or even object, Jinnai began tinkering with the unit's controls. He twisted a bright yellow dial thrice, pulled two blue levers, pushed a large mauve button with all his might and stamped on a green pedal. The contraption began to hum with power and its monitors started to glow bright purple.

"Generalissimo Jinnai, what you just did was safe, wasn't it?" whispered Diva, fear in her eyes.

"I don't feel right," murmured the pink, spider-like Bugrom called Zeppo, shifting about nervously.

"Me neither," said mantis-like Gummo, slowly edging towards the exit. "It's almost as if the boss activated an explosive device or such."

"Codswallop," snorted Jinnai, fiddling with some meters. "My technical skills are profound and foolproof. I know what I'm doing."

Before Jinnai could say anything more, however, the gimmick gave a high-pitched whine and exploded with a deafening bang in a huge ball of fire. He and his company were blown out of the depot by the blast's shockwave and ended up in a clump of prickly bushes. Shaken but unhurt, they helped one another to their feet and silently surveyed their erstwhile destination, which was now a blazing wreck.

"You were saying, dear chief?" groused the Bugrom flunkies inwardly.

Diva flung her arms around Jinnai, sobbing something along the lines of "Oh, Generalissimo Jinnai, thank heaven you're alright!"

Jinnai was speechless for some time. Then, he said in a small, martyred voice: "Let's go home."

They promptly did. Unbeknownst to Jinnai, he had created a gateway between worlds by meddling with the computer terminal, which was in fact a device that opened inter-dimensional portals. Although existent only for a temporary period due to the contraption overloading and blowing up, the rift had allowed an ancient evil to return to El-Hazard from its imprisonment in limbo. Katsuhiko Jinnai, royally appointed Generalissimo of the Bugrom Empire, was directly responsible for the blood-soaked catastrophe that was about to take place.

**END OF CHAPTER TWO**


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE: THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM**

The greatest perils lurk beneath still waters. – Old proverb

An entire three weeks passed on El-Hazard. People went about their usual doings, peaceful and safe. Absolutely no one realized that this was the last period of tranquility that they were to take enjoyment in for many strange and terrible days.

It cannot be said that the Magnificent World's populace had no fair portent of what was to come. Several isolated but ominous incidents that came to pass during this interlude should have served as very obvious eye-openers. However, they went disregarded by most, and thus the El-Hazardian races were utterly ignorant of what would soon become one of the biggest threats to their subsistence.

The first of these episodes involved sightings of what were ostensibly spirits, which hovered through the skies above areas that ranged from densely populated cities to bleak wildernesses. Details were conflicting, but the few citizens who glimpsed these mysterious intruders generally described them as being wholly invisible unless light conditions were excellent, upon which they showed up as faint, barely discernible outlines. One witness claimed that he had seen two of these wraiths momentarily solidify into what he called 'winged devils'. Few took these seemingly absurd statements seriously, for no corporeal evidence was existent as confirmation. Instead, numerous obtuse theories purporting to hallucinations and collective psychosis were submitted. In veracity, these incursions signified that El-Hazard and its people were being spied on.

Next came queer happenings in the vast, uninhabited area of snow-covered plains, mountains and fjords that made up northern El-Hazard. Reports indicated long, powerful puffs of smoke and flame bursting out of the ice at night. On other occasions, sounds of crashing and banging similar to noises audible at any busy construction site echoed through the chill air. The incidents were attributed to seismic activity and volcanic eruptions, which were frequent in the region. In actual fact, industrious individuals were hard at work up north, preparing to set into motion their ambitious schemes.

Even with the shade of disaster hanging over them, the public carried on their daily routine of working, eating, drinking and resting as they had for decades, giving only intermittent thoughts to the phantom interlopers and casting only sporadic glances at the frozen wastes of the north. At the end of the aforementioned twenty-one days, however, the prevalent sense of well-being would be scattered to the four winds and gone.

**END OF CHAPTER THREE**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR: COLLATERAL DAMAGE**

I never imagined even dying people could look that way. – Polly Condit Smith, _A Brief History Of The Boxer Rebellion _

Clad in a wickedly rugged crimson outfit that accentuated her curves and perfectly matched the tint of her long, silky hair, Shayla-Shayla, the vivacious and attractive Elemental Priestess of Fire, soared through the dawn sky, her butterfly-like flame wings propelling her through the air at an incredible speed. The sun was rising in the east, the moon's cold gray lantern and the twinkling stars were moving to the west, a cool, refreshing breeze was blowing and fluffy white cumulus clouds were mushrooming.

"What a spellbinding panorama," Shayla thought. "The day's promising to be a truly beautiful one."

It had been a long journey from the northeastern Scardoss Hills, where Shayla had spent the better part of the night rooting out a twenty-strong gang of brigands and annihilating them to the last man in a singularly one-sided battle. However, she had made good time and was almost home now. Within the hour, a plate of appetizing chow and a tankard of warm mead would be sitting before her. Mere fantasizing about these refreshments was sufficient to send her mouth watering.

All of a sudden, Shayla stiffened and caught her breath as a startling sight met her feline green eyes. The patch of sky before her was as dark as pitch, wreathed with dense clouds of smoke. Under the blackness, a yellow-brown fog hung over the earth.

"Something's seriously amiss," muttered Shayla. "I'd better check it out."

So saying, she dived down for a look-see. Even as she made her landing, the Fire Priestess could already hear heart-rending screams and wails of the dying. The reeking smoke was thankfully beginning to disperse. Gradually the veiled ground became visible, and the view rooted her to the spot with horror.

Something had swept through a village and ravaged everything with a force beyond human comprehension. All the buildings Shayla could see were on fire. Trees were wrapped in flame like so many pieces of kindling, and charred corpses littered the streets. To say that everything burned is not sufficient. It seemed to Shayla that the earth itself emitted fire and smoke, flames that writhed up and erupted from underground.

"Ye Gods… who or what could have perpetrated such carnage?" seethed Shayla, angered and appalled by all she had witnessed.

Charging into the razed settlement, she was immediately approached by a group of half a dozen survivors who were pleading for help. "Priestess, thank the Powers that you are here," they sobbed. "Many of our friends and relatives are trapped under rubble… please aid us."

"Sure," breathed Shayla as she hurried after them. The state of these people's injuries amazed her, for never before had she seen such anyone in such a terrible state. Their heads and faces were whitish; their hair was singed. It was because their eyelashes had been scorched away that they looked so bleary-eyed. They were partially nude, for their garments had apparently been burned from their bodies. It was as if these poor souls had been struck by lightning.

As Shayla ran through the ruins, more folk in a similar plight came stumbling along. All exhibited similar, flash burn-type wounds, and were crying more or less the same words: "I'm hurt, _hurt_! I'm on fire! Water!" Partially clothed or stark naked, they walked with strange, slow steps, groaning from deep inside themselves as if they had traveled from the depths of hell. They looked extremely pale; their faces were like masks. Shayla felt as if she was dreaming, watching pallid ghosts processing slowly in one direction - as in a childhood nightmare of hers.

Before long, Shayla was carrying out maimed villagers from the remains of their dwellings. The Fire Priestess put her mystic abilities to good use, utilizing beams of heat emitted from her palms to saw through fallen masonry and free the trapped. Thanks to her unselfish devotion and the cooperation of several other people, all those ensnared and in danger of being buried alive were saved. The villagers wept with happiness, overjoyed that no more of their friends and relations would perish, and thanked Shayla profusely.

Shayla helped bandage the wounded and comfort the survivors. The severity of their injuries continued to increase: a child whose body had been lacerated by shards of glass and splinters blown by an eruption; a woman who had been knocked off her feet and thrown against a hard wall; a man who had been battered by heavy objects falling upon him. None of them, however, knew how they had come to be so badly hurt. They all trembled with fear and pain, mumbling incoherently.

Gradually, Shayla's pity began to turn into something resembling frustration. "Damn it, someone must know something about what happened here," she groused.

"I may, Priestess," said someone. It was none other than the village headman, his scorched figure hobbling towards Shayla with the aid of a blackened cane. "My people and I were going about our business when everything suddenly seemed to blow up around us, as though we were being shelled by artillery. When the explosions died away and the worst of the slaughter was over, I distinguished with my own eyes translucent forms - noticable only due to the fact that they stood out ever-so-slightly against the smoke and flame - soaring away into the blue, which transformed into big, black figures just before flying behind the clouds and out of sight. I believe that they, whatever they were, perpetrated the destruction that you see."

Shayla was thunderstruck. The similarities between the headman's portrayal and the stories of airborne spooks that she had heard in the taverns were striking. It was highly unlikely that he was deluded or mendacious; apart from the fact that there was little reason to lie about so grave a situation, the manner of his speech was deadly serious and indicated that the aforesaid tall tales were alien to him. This, coupled with the stunning amount of substantiation that lay all around - the many edifices reduced to smoldering wreckage as well as the multitudes of casualties - indicated that the rumors had a degree of certainty to them.

"Which way did the creeps go?" she asked urgently.

"To the northwest," was the reply.

"It just may be a little too late, sir, but I'm going to tail them and probe this entire matter to the bottom if it's the last thing I do," grated Shayla.

She got up to leave. The villagers were immensely proud of her for offering to track down the source of their misery and avenge them; none of them could provide any further help for they had to hurry to the nearest town to obtain medical stores, which were already in short supply. Powering up her Lamp of Fire, Shayla concentrated hard, conjured up her fire wings and took to the sky.

A protracted and extensive scouring of the northwestern area turned up zilch. Shayla was very worn out. Landing on a stony outcrop, she sat down and took a rest. Tears of aggravation and disappointment ran down her grimy face, for she had been unable to make good her promise to the villagers. Never before had she come across a situation where she felt so helpless.

Suddenly, she heard a sound. It was a strange monotonic voice that sounded neither male nor female, and it was addressing her. "Looking for the demolishers of that hamlet, are you, Priestess?"

"Who's there?" shouted Shayla, jumping to her feet and frantically glancing around. "How in the eighteen hells do you know my purpose here?" Bewilderment clouded her mind. The rock formation was small, relatively bare and thus not capable of concealing anyone, yet the voice had come from somewhere within its boundaries.

"Who am I? I am merely a friend who wishes to be of assistance," continued the voice. "And as for how I know your intentions, let me just say that I am capable of reading your thoughts." There was now something in unseen speaker's tone that suggested that he or she was savoring Shayla's bafflement. "Now listen to my words, little Miss Fireball, and listen well. The perpetrators of the ruin should be easy to find, for they will in all probability launch another assault in next to no time. However, they are not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill baddies and will be exceedingly difficult to deal with. Unless you desire an untimely death, seek out the one who taught you your trade, for she can tell you more about this business than I can."

With that, the voice faded away before Shayla could ask any more questions. She called out, but failed to obtain a response. The entire incident was very disturbing, to say the least. "Am I losing it, or did I just hear a disembodied voice that offered me some cryptic advice?" she thought, staring blankly like a woman hypnotized.

As if in response to her pondering, the unseen speaker mouthed more words, sounding almost petulant. "You most certainly _did_ just hear a disembodied voice that offered you some cryptic advice. Stop standing there like a dummy and set off before time runs out for El-Hazard and its people!"

Shayla did not need to be told thrice. She quit the place straightaway and flew off towards the craggy outline of Mount Muldoon, which loomed on the distant horizon.

**END OF CHAPTER FOUR**


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE: AN EXPERT CONSULTED**

Nothing beats an early warning- it allows you to nip a quandary in the bud. – Squadron-Leader James Bigglesworth

Sitting on the northern incline of El-Hazard's tallest natural pinnacle, Mount Muldoon was the majestic Elemental Cathedral, the Elemental Church's Holy of Holies. Its sprawling but exceedingly well-kept compound not only encompassed the great domed house of worship itself, but a chapel, convent, Grand Priestess' residence, hospital, museum, printing press, several schools and a number of outbuildings. Resplendent in the sun's brilliant rays, the place was truly an awe-inspiring spectacle.

The day was already old when Shayla-Shayla finally arrived at the Elemental Cathedral. Diving towards the compound, she landed impeccably in a peaceful grove of trees and, ignoring her lethargy, rushed into the building without further ado. White-clad acolytes and blue-robed initiates bowed respectfully to her as she ran down the Cathedral's spartan, pillared corridors, wondering why their superior was in such a terrible hurry.

It did not take Shayla long to find the person she sought. Meditating in a plain hall under a stained-glass skylight was an aged but handsome woman, her gray hair worn in a queue and her svelte figure clothed in a toga ornamented with emblems that symbolized the four elements- earth, wind, fire and water. This was none other than Grand Priestess Telessa, founder and spiritual leader of the Elemental Church as well as guide to generations of Elemental Priestesses.

Shayla paced into the chamber, prostrated herself before her mistress and gasped: "Grand Priestess, your humble pupil bears ill tidings."

Telessa's voice was gentle as she bade her protégée rise: "Well met, my child. You say you bring bad news. What has taken place?"

As Shayla provided a detailed narrative of the morning's events, consternation clouded Telessa's face. "How tactless of me," she said through clenched teeth. "I did not take heed of the talk I heard about unusual goings-on in the north and ethereal visitors, and now a terrible tragedy has occurred. Now I must act, and I hope that I am not too late."

"What do you make of these troubling events, Grand Priestess?" inquired Shayla as she followed her teacher out of the room. "Can you shed any light on them?"

"I think I know what might be going on here," murmured Telessa. "I hope to the Gods that I am wrong, but if my suspicions are confirmed, this state of affairs is far worse than anybody's most loathsome nightmares."

In a bright, book-lined gallery, Telessa pored over dust-covered documents. Clusters of rust-red lettering were enclosed between black runic borders that outlined the sheets of creamy parchment. Try as she might, Shayla was unable to interpret the bizarre hieroglyphs.

"This is an El-Hazardian language dating from before the Great War, which, as you know, took place millennia past," Telessa explained. "Almost none still speak it, much less write it. I suspect that it may require several hours of research to decipher these texts and glean the information we seek. In the meantime, take a breather, dear. You look thoroughly drained."

Shayla was only too glad to obey. While Telessa consulted crumbling scrolls and worm-eaten grimoires, she entered a well-appointed study, furnished with a plush armchair and an ornate writing desk. Beside the seat was a small table bearing a tray of hot food and a decanter of red wine. The chair was extremely comfortable, and the Fire Priestess sank into it with some relief. She reached out, drew the refreshments to her and tucked in ravenously. They were excellent- so good that she did not waste a morsel. She soon drifted into a very sound sleep.

Telessa gave Shayla a wake-up call upon finishing her lengthy investigation. "It is a thousand mercies that your warning came swift and galvanized me into action, Shayla," she breathed, her face blanched. "The impending threat is a most severe one. It is imperative that we depart immediately- our friends at Roshtaria must be warned."

"What have you discovered, Grand Priestess?" asked a mystified Shayla.

"I'll provide a full clarification once we get to Floristica City," replied Telessa as both of them stepped through an exit and out onto a balcony. "Take my hand."

Shayla did so. Telessa muttered several mystic syllables and fashioned a flurry of air currents with broad sweeps of her palms. Assisted by this protective sphere of wind, mentor and disciple rose into the air and raced across the star-spangled firmament, southward-bound.

**END OF CHAPTER FIVE**


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX: GREAT AND HOLY MATRIARCH**

Most people wonder all their lives if they've made a difference. A select few don't face that problem. – Ronald Reagan

**Name: **Telessa Arduil Heliass

**Profession: **Grand Priestess of the Elemental Church

**Sex: **Female (duh)

**Height: **5 feet 8 inches

**Weight:** Undisclosed (even in El-Hazard, women will be women)

**Hair:** Gray

**Eyes: **Ice blue

**Age:** (she lost count at 287 years)

**Physical description: **Despite being over three centuries old, Telessa looks a woman in her fifties. Quite the beauty in her youth, her looks and shape are still nothing to sneeze at. She wears her long hair in a queue, has a caring, gentle face and a trim figure.

**Dress code: **A long, toga-like outfit adorned with symbols that denote the four elements (earth, wind, fire and water).

**Personality: **Telessa is duty-bound, taking her responsibilities as the Elemental Church's spiritual leader very seriously. Highly intelligent, her comprehension of Elemental Magic (and much else besides) is profound and she constantly strives to develop this acumen. She is virtuous and refined, even motherly on occasions. In tense situations such as combats, she becomes level headed and serious, able to act fearlessly without being excessively impulsive.

**Past: **Of minor aristocracy, Telessa was born during a tumultuous, post-Great War epoch. This period saw El-Hazard plunge into civil conflict as various martial clans clashed for control of the Magnificent World. Violence and suffering were rife. Unlike her family, who enjoyed themselves eating, drinking and lazing about their villas while their conscripted troops fought, bled and died on the battlefields, Telessa was appalled by current happenings and vowed to somehow put a stop to the chaos.

Upon coming of age, she forsook her status and riches, roaming the land in search of a means to attain her goal. She struck gold one momentous day. Guided by long-dead voices, Telessa became a powerful sorceress, able to manipulate the elements as she so pleased. Under the tuition of these mysterious divinities, she forged mystic talismans called the Elemental Lamps, which bestowed powers similar to hers, and founded the Elemental Church, an order of warrior-priestesses dedicated to eliminating evil and upholding justice.

Thanks to the painstaking labors of Telessa and her followers, the slaughter ceased. She put noble and righteous rulers in charge, and peace slowly began to descend on El-Hazard. Evil was never permanently extinguished, however, and over the subsequent centuries Telessa and her followers continued to deal with numerous exotic adversaries, including supernatural beings, Bugrom hordes and Phantom Tribesmen. Only two of these encounters offered any true challenge, however.

The first was a rift in the Elemental Church. A faction of malcontents under Tiriel Mirisgroth, the redoubtable but impetuous Priestess of Earth, rebelled, taking a government hostage. Their rationale: they were fed to the teeth with serving the El-Hazardian people, whom they felt did not appreciate and deserve their aid. Telessa tried her very best to settle the dispute via negotiation but these efforts did not affect the headstrong upstarts. Greatly distraught, there was no option left for her but to use deadly force. The subsequent confrontation saw the daring rescue of all the captives, the merciless quashing of the insurgence, in which Tiriel perished in an epic mêlée with Telessa, and the eternal loss of the Lamp of Earth. Telessa was utterly devastated at having to dispatch her own pupils, and the emotional breakdown that descended upon her was nearly too much to bear.

The second took place when the Phantom Tribe discovered the secret island installation where the malevolent Demon Gods Ab-Zahal and Jinnistacia slumbered. Only Telessa knew of this startling development, and she rushed there alone to stop the illusionists' plans of winning the lethal machines over to their cause. She failed to prevent the Demon Gods' awakening. Engaging them in battle, Telessa put up a terrific fight, but the strength of the diabolical duo proved excessively great to overcome, and she suffered her first ever defeat. Her grievous injuries kept her out of action for upwards of four months (which explains her absence from the official El-Hazard series).

**Present: **After convalescing entirely, Telessa continued to perform her religious duties. Recently alerted to a mystifying new threat by her disciple Shayla-Shayla, she performed meticulous research and uncovered the shocking truth behind this latest menace. Guru and apprentice are currently headed for Roshtaria to warn their comrades.

**Goals:** Administering the Elemental Church efficiently, maintaining peace throughout El-Hazard and attaining self-perfection.

**Likes:** The beautiful lands and diverse people of El-Hazard, advocating the cause of good, gaining new wisdom and educating her disciples.

**Dislikes: **Anything downright wicked or sinful.

**Hobbies: **Caught up in her important tasks, Telessa has little opportunity to pursue a pastime. However, she is an expert in the art of paper folding, which she mastered as a child, excels in archery and, in keeping with her thirst for knowledge, adores reading.

**Abilities: **Telessa has full command over the four elements. Unlike her protégées, whose extra-physical aptitudes stem from the Elemental Lamps that they wear, Telessa's powers are innate. A side effect (or perhaps a bonus) of channeling these mystic energies is the fact that she ages but one year for every decade that passes.

As she knows her sorcery virtually inside out and experiments regularly, Telessa's skills are extensive and developed. The following are but a fraction of them. Note that Elemental Magic works by inter-dimensionally transporting quantities of an element from an otherworldly plane where it is widespread, thus providing basic material for a corresponding technique. This enables spells to be utilized even in locales where the element required is naturally absent.

Earth

Armoring herself in stone or metal (or any product thereof), creating or quelling earth tremors (or any other earth-related phenomena) at will, blasting foes with a flying hail of rocks and boulders, causing a fissure to swallow opponents, fashioning earth (or any product thereof) as she so pleases, being completely at home underground (intimate knowledge of tunnel layouts, able to spot rock-falls or similar dangers before they occur, etc.)

Water

Drenching enemies with high-pressure streams of water discharged from her fingertips, emitting chilling beams that encase adversaries in blocks of ice, freezing, thawing or shaping water (or any product thereof) as she so pleases, being completely at home underwater (breathing while submerged, swimming swiftly and effortlessly, resisting tremendous water pressure etc.), creating or quelling tidal waves (or any other water-related phenomena) at will

Fire

Starting or extinguishing blazes (or any other fire-related phenomena) at will, shaping fire (or any product thereof) as she so pleases, discharging explosive, fiery projectiles of various types at foes, withstanding extremes of temperature, conjuring up a virtually impenetrable, protective shield of flame

Wind

Flight at various speeds, buffeting enemies with high-pressure jets of air, manipulating wind (i.e. its pressure and speed) as she so pleases, restraining opponents with bolas of air, creating and quelling tornadoes (or any other wind-related phenomena) at will, transporting objects or people with the aid of air currents, survival in airless environments.

**Weaknesses: **As indicated by her defeat at the hands of Ab-Zahal and Jinnistacia, not _every_ adversary withers before Telessa's powers. Upcoming events will reinforce this notion.

**END OF CHAPTER SIX**


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN: BLOODY SHAMBLES**

Let the slaughter begin! – Piranacon, _Transformers: Masterforce_

A wispy silhouette, its hazy form virtually unnoticeable, drifted through the heavens above the snow-covered plains northeast of El-Hazard's northern provinces. This was a scout from an army bivouacked not very far off- a malicious, primeval force that threatened to level the Magnificent World, steal its energies and resources and crush its aspirations.

As it flew back to its encampment, the apparition materialized into a strange and terrible beast. She was approximately fourteen feet in stature, and, like a Bugrom, had the appearance of a humanoid insect. Apart from that, however, there existed no other similarities in physical characteristics between her and any of Katsuhiko Jinnai's followers. Her lithe frame was sheathed from horned head to clawed feet in seemingly impenetrable slabs of black and violet armor that were beautifully streamlined, possessing minimal angles and flat surfaces. She sported chevrons on her right arm that gleamed like polished steel, and emblazoned on two of the four aerodynamic wings that sprouted from her back was the mark of a silver scythe with blood dripping from its blade. A large, red, eye-like sensor in the middle of her masked face seemed to glow with murderous intent. Despite her size, she cut through the air with almost impossible grace and speed.

The ghoulish flier at last landed on a huge expanse of flat grassland, where several hundred of her kin stood in silent phalanxes. She swiftly took her place among the ranks. Not long afterwards, a second vaporous specter arrived by air, also turning into a metallic monstrosity as it neared the pasture. Apart from the fact that he was seventy feet tall, massively built and wore an intricate silver design on his right arm instead of chevrons, his form was generally similar to that of his fellows. This leviathan radiated brute force, pure malevolence and utter destructiveness. As he touched down in front of the serried rows, the insectoids hailed him deferentially with Nazi-style salutes. His only response was a slight nod. When a sinister figure appeared on his shoulder, faced the scores of armored creatures and raised his hand in greeting, the horde simultaneously took a knee and bowed their heads.

Dressed in elaborately crafted black plate mail that fit him like a glove, this imposing entity stood six and a half feet high and possessed the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His horned helm, reminiscent of a samurai's, was engraved with the bloodied scythe emblem, a complex, gem-encrusted silver badge adorned his right forearm and a voluminous velvet cape hung from his broad shoulders. His striking features- cobalt hair, bluish-white skin, pale lavender eyes and pointed ears- could only be described as elven and starkly denoted a non-human origin. Emanating from him was an intense aura of evil.

The saturnine being addressed the fiends in a harsh, guttural lingo, the closest possible equivalent of which would be a mixture of German and Korean spoken backwards. He spat out the phrases as he spoke, and some of the sounds were like hacking coughs. He never modulated his speech; the words seemed to come right out of his stomach and appeared to be thrown out by the diaphragm instead of being produced by vocal cords. There were many strong consonants, Ks, Rs and Ps, all pronounced very sharply, and also numerous vowels and diphthongs, like AU and UE, which sounded like outright barking. For the benefit of the reader, all dialogue and script in this bizarre language has been fully translated and is represented by underlined text.

"Rise, my Shadow Reavers," he roared. "Five hundred and four hours of detailed surveillance work and careful planning subsequent to our unanticipated return to El-Hazard from our incarceration in another dimension, Operation Phoenix- so dubbed because like the mythical firebird, we will rise from the ashes of our preceding defeat and incinerate our enemies- has finally commenced with strafing attacks on several small settlements by our advance parties, which took place yesterday and the day before. This momentous morning, our main body will initiate the great enterprise of eradicating the hateful foe. Thanks to my immobilizing of their super-weapon as well as the fact that no Sandai or sophisticated conventional weaponry exist to pose any threat, the task will be a slice of cake. Let us now blast them with our weapons, strip them of their lives, lop off their heads, render them dead and make widows of their wives!"

"We hear and obey, Master Zheverin," howled the dark legion in an enthusiastic reply.

"Let's go, Vaxagore," said Zheverin to the behemoth. "Gory escapades lie ahead."

The colossus spread his gigantic wings and took off, Zheverin riding on his shoulder. His smaller counterparts followed suit, assembling into V-formations comprising groups of three. As one, the armada of Shadow Reavers, for it is by the name stated by their boss that these abominations will be referred to from now on, wheeled southwest and flew at great rapidity in that direction.

"My Lord," rumbled Vaxagore as he cruised in the lead position, "my scanners have detected a sizable hostile force nearing us even as I speak."

"I can see that the others have perceived them, too, old friend," mused Zheverin, sensing elation among his pack. "No doubt some of our scouts, shedding their cloak of invisibility for reasons best known to themselves, must have been seen heading in the direction of just now's rendezvous point after the blitz on those villages. What does it matter, anyway? We'll obliterate our adversaries in the blink of an eye."

Five minutes had passed when a large flotilla of airships appeared in the distance. These craft were of all shapes, sizes and colors, flying elaborate standards. Heavily armored, their decks and sides bristled with large, intimidating-looking pulse cannon. In a display of great airmanship, they deployed into a crescent-like combat configuration with the most powerful among their number forming the tips.

"Shall I give the order to consign these puny opponents to perdition, Sire?" asked Vaxagore.

"Negative," grinned Zheverin wickedly, baring his needle-like fangs. "Tell everyone to grant the opposition the luxury of making the opening move. That'll guarantee some amusement."

The huge, senior Shadow Reaver spread the word via a com-link in his helmet. He and his juniors halted in mid-flight and hovered motionlessly, mutely observing the fleet that faced them. Without warning, the sleek vehicles unleashed a tremendous bombardment upon the dark host.

Have you ever been drunk and stood on a street corner at night? Your vision is a little blurry and you can see the taillights of passing cars flashing by you. Well, facing the barrage put up by those ships was like being drunk, standing on a street corner at night and having all the taillights flashing _at _you. The pulses of energy arced through the air like fireworks or multi-hued streams of water and slammed into their targets, causing deafening, blinding eruptions. It seemed like an eternity before the shooting ceased. When the smoke cleared, though, each and every one of the Shadow Reavers was not only still alive but also completely unharmed. So was their chief.

"All right, boys and girls, now comes _your_ turn to display some pyrotechnics," shouted Zheverin. "Rock the house!"

Upon receiving this directive, all the Shadow Reavers proceeded to reveal their weaponry- gun-like devices mounted in their forearms. With a noise totally unlike that of firearms being discharged- a soft, electricity-like crackling- they let rip with their awesome firepower, spewing forth multitudes of crimson energy bolts.

The effect of these rays was devastating. They tore through the hulls of the vessels like hot knives through butter, detonated their power plants and blasted their crews into blackened fragments. Within seconds, each of the men-of-war was a ball of flames that hurtled earthwards. Immense explosions ensued as they impacted with the ground and flew to pieces.

"Nice work, kids," yelled Zheverin over the hullabaloo. "Carry on with the advance!"

The Shadow Reavers calmly resumed their briefly interrupted voyage. Before long, a line of large, heavily fortified towers- border stations- came into view. Strategically positioned around the outposts were batteries of artillery. Parked outside them were more airships, some of which were preparing for take-off. The forts' battlements swarmed with helmeted and uniformed marksmen, who pointed and gestured in very visible alarm at the black host bearing down on them.

"The imbeciles must be wondering why their fleet failed to inflict any damage on us," chuckled Zheverin. "Such feelings of confusion will doubtlessly be widespread among the human scum as our rampage unfolds." Turning to Vaxagore, he said: "Don't let's take these varmints out from long range as we did just now. A hand-to-hand fight will be far more entertaining. Issue the order."

Vaxagore obeyed. As one, he and the lesser Shadow Reavers sprouted razor-sharp, saber-like cutting edges from their wrists. Zheverin held his gauntleted hands aloft and barked a phrase in a sorcerous tongue. Spears of black lightning arced from the heavens and gathered in his palm to amalgamate into a sword eight feet in length. It crackled and spit ferociously with static, looking for the entire world like a tear in reality through which the nightmare depths of space could be seen.

With a great sweep of this unholy weapon, which he wielded as though it were lighter than a matchstick, Zheverin gave the signal to charge, leaping off Vaxagore's back and flying towards the strongholds, aided by powers of levitation. His subordinates tore after him in a chorus of frenzied battle cries.

The attackers barreled through a maelstrom of flying shrapnel, bursting shells and pulses of energy that did not harm them the least bit. Gun crews were seen abandoning their positions in sheer panic. None of the Shadow Reavers were turned aside before they reached the buildings and their petrified occupants. A gruesome close-quarters fight began.

Zheverin landed in the midst of a dozen infantrymen who mustered enough fools' courage to charge him with their bayonets, firing from the hip as they did so. "Twelve versus one," Zheverin observed dispassionately as shots ricocheted harmlessly off his armor and face. "The odds hardly seem fair. I'll fight with my left hand only and with my eyes closed."

He did, and, needless to say, triumphed. The effects of Zheverin's magical blade were terrible to behold. Those struck by it were completely vaporized, leaving behind only the sharp tang of ozone and wreaths of smoke to mark their passing. Many other defenders were consigned to this hideous fate.

Vaxagore closed in on a fortification and began to do Godzilla-like impressions to his wicked heart's content. By means of his prodigious strength, he began to batter down the walls with his fists and feet. The construction fell to pieces before his relentless and remorseless onslaught. He cleaved men from the ramparts, reducing them to gory shreds of flesh and bone. Others were crushed to death between his talon-tipped fingers or trampled flat. The juggernaut reveled in the carnage, his laughter sounding like rolling thunder.

The ordinary Shadow Reavers fell on their prey like wolves on a fold of sheep, hacking, slashing and stabbing indiscriminately. Soldiers fell left and right, some decapitated, others eviscerated. A number of the brutes opted to smash skulls and snap necks with their bare hands. Another faction chose to pick up their victims and batter them against walls until the poor souls expired. Most, however, took morbid enjoyment in turning invisible when the troops tried to take aim and shoot, sneaking up from behind, reappearing abruptly and cutting them down. The effect of such a macabre prank on the sanity of the humans was simply too much. Many committed suicide rather than be slain by these vicious horrors.

By the battle's end, Zheverin and his minions were the only ones left standing. The bastions' entire garrisons- more than half a division of personnel all told- lay in lifeless heaps around the remains of their bases.

"Great job, everyone," praised Zheverin as he wiped bloodstains off his apparel. "As a reward, I'll give you ten minutes to take any trophies you desire from this dump, after which we will resume our journey southwards. Begin."

Amid a cacophony of exultant shrieks, the Shadow Reavers set about the grisly task of collecting skulls and bones as prizes. Once done, they recommenced their flight to the city-states that lay ahead.

The scourge of the Gods was upon El-Hazard.

**END OF CHAPTER SEVEN**


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT: UNCERTAINTY AT THE TOP**

If everything isn't in black and white, I say: "Why the hell not?" – Clint Eastwood

"Be upstanding for her Majesty, Princess Rune Venus!" cried four stalwart sentinels in unison.

The dozen or so dignitaries sprang to attention as the delicate figure of a girl barely in her twenties ascended an ornate dais and took her seat. She threw back the gauzy, veil-like garment covering her head, releasing a halo of curls the color of windblown wheat, which, with a rather tired gesture, she shook into place.

"Thank you, guards," said the Princess. "You may leave us now." As the soldiers obeyed, she turned her fair face to the assembled peers of the realm and addressed them: "Do be seated, my esteemed advisers. Forgive me for organizing this conference so suddenly and at so late an hour, but disquieting affairs have transpired freshly and it is paramount that we disperse the confusion and doubt that plague us at present. Status quo, please, High Chamberlain Londs."

A tall, swarthy nobleman with aquiline features and a full beard stepped forward. Clearing his throat, he then dictated an unsettling report in his somber voice: "Your Majesty, it may be born in mind that tales of elusive ghosts roaming the lands and of strange constructive doings in the north were rife among the public recently. "It has now become evident that these outwardly ludicrous yarns have genuineness to them.

"The day before, somewhat garbled and sketchy reports were transmitted to us via heliograph from our allies all over El-Hazard, which indicate that the amorphous specters are hostile entities of sorts and have attacked and destroyed numerous municipalities. Precisely how these feats were accomplished is still unclear.

"Yesterday, Count Zanba of the northern city-state of Kobish sent us a message, which stated that scouts from his army had discovered a body of these enigmatic foes gathering on the flat fields of Ghaldstalt, apparently preparing to strike. He expressed a desire to 'seek out and destroy the enemy on the morrow with one brush of the armored sleeve', and insisted on Roshtaria providing assistance in the form of troops and materiel, as the principalities of Gyris and Vhatan had already done.

"Early this morning, the conflict came to our doorstep when the border settlement of Chula, located near the Scardoss Hills, was all but leveled in a vicious assault. Also, a final, rather withering dispatch from Count Zanba arrived in the afternoon, which indicated that his task force was ready for battle and would embark immediately, Roshtarian support in attendance or otherwise. He and his men should be engaging their opponents at present. This, I fear, is all the information on hand. I apologize for the meagerness of available facts, your Majesty, and promise you that any fresh developments will be accessible to you as soon as they turn up."

Londs returned to his seat. As he did so, the congregation descended into a hubbub of anxious voices. A sense of dread was rising among them. Rune's face darkened. "These indeed are very deep waters," she said stoically, gesturing for silence, upon which the delegates did their utmost to settle down. "I trust that Chula and its inhabitants are no worse, Dr. Schtalubaugh?"

"Nay, your Majesty," put in the elderly man of science. "Sufficient aid comprising food, clothing, medical stores, temporary shelters and other necessities was dispatched shortly after word of the calamity reached my ears."

"That is heartening news indeed," sighed Rune with relief.

Before she could utter another word, a heavy-set, older bureaucrat interjected her. "Your Majesty, Kobish and its dependencies have been staunch allies to Roshtaria," remarked this steely martinet, his gray eyes flashing with resentment. "I do not comprehend why no help was given to them when they requested for it."

"Perhaps Royal Champion Fujisawa may be able to explain, Baron Varic," said Rune evenly.

A darkly handsome, slightly scruffy military officer smoothed out the creases in his uniform and stood up. "Being responsible for all matters concerning defense, I shall, your Majesty," he said solemnly. "During the war against the Demon Gods, the Phantom Tribe and the Bugrom Empire that took place nearly five months ago, our soldiery incurred considerable losses. We have yet to recover wholly from being stripped of so many seasoned veterans. Despite the fact that the brigades have been brought back up to their appropriate strengths by now, the new recruits are not battle-tested and throwing inexperienced men to the lions would be tantamount to callous murder."

Seated next to Fujisawa was a statuesque, regal-looking woman dressed in the water-black tunic and azure skirt of an Elemental Priestess of Water. She had been calm and quiet all the while, but could contain herself no longer. Hastily getting to her feet, she blurted out, to the surprise of everyone in the room: "My husband speaks the truth, your Majesty. His reason for holding back is perfectly rational, considering the straits that the Roshtarian army is in now. Moreover, another basis for such conduct does exist. In the past, we knew our adversaries, but these other-worldly enemies are something that we have not encountered the likes of before." She turned to Baron Varic and continued almost ruthlessly: "Brashly springing into action against antagonists whose capabilities are completely unfamiliar is hardly the intelligent choice to make, Baron. It would be far wiser to further evaluate the situation before any initiatives are executed."

Varic's face contorted in fury. He looked like he was going to have a cerebral hemorrhage.

"Miz, pipe down!" hissed Fujisawa frantically. "This is going a little too far already!"

"As a dutiful wife, Masamichi, it is my responsibility to stand by you anywhere, anytime and anyhow," said the Priestess in such an earnest tone that Fujisawa clammed up.

Loud shouts filled the hall as the council members took sides. The flaring tensions died down only when Rune raised her voice. "Enough!" she ordered in a tone that instantly muted everybody. "There will be order during this session, or I will be forced to act accordingly!"

The chamber was as quiet as the grave for a bit. The light of understanding shone in Rune's eyes as she eventually broke the stillness by saying quietly: "Yes, perhaps you and the Royal Champion are right, Lady Fujisawa. The more I mull over your rationale, the more sagacious it becomes. Together you have proven to be astute and prudent aides, and your verdict may have warded off a disaster."

Fujisawa and Miz bowed their heads in both embarrassment and gratitude at their sovereign's praise. Varic glowered, but said nothing.

"Your Majesty," said Afura Mann, Elemental Priestess of Wind, "pardon me if I may seem blunt, but whatever steps we have already taken cannot be altered and we must look ahead instead of indulging in retrospection. The fact remains that something must be done about this crisis. Does anybody have any suggestions as to what our next course of action should be?"

Several among the gathering raised their hands, but they stopped short of expressing their thoughts when a knock was heard on the double doors at the far end of the room. In came an apprehensive-looking footman who bowed to the luminaries and announced the arrival of Grand Priestess Telessa and Fire Priestess Shayla-Shayla.

"The Grand Priestess would only come under circumstances of great urgency," noted Rune. "Show them in."

All heads turned as the two formidable holy warriors entered and performed the customary obeisance. Shayla took a seat as directed by Telessa, who remained where she stood.

"What goes on, Shayla?" asked a puzzled Miz.

"A grisly mess," was the groaned reply. "You won't believe what I went through most of today. Hush now, the boss is going to make everything known."

"Venerated members of the Royal Court," announced Telessa, "the reality behind current happenings has finally been uncovered. I must stress that the weightiness of the issue demands the application of swift and concrete rectifying measures."

"We are all ears, my Lady," said Rune, visibly curious and full of trepidation.

The lengthy explanation that followed caused the symposium to descend into pandemonium. Shock was plain to see upon the faces of many. At least one faint-hearted official passed out. Rune turned as white as a sheet and was last seen walking out the door, deep in discussion with Telessa. Only Fujisawa remained unaffected, for he could make out neither head nor tail of what he had heard. "This is all Greek to me," he muttered.

"Not being from El-Hazard, Mr. Fujisawa, it is a small wonder that you are totally dumbfounded," said a grim-faced Afura. "The Grand Priestess' elucidation indicates that the roots of the problem we face lie in this world's troubled past." Taking him to one side, she laid everything to bare bones for his benefit.

**END OF CHAPTER EIGHT**


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE: A HISTORY LESSON**

Truth can be stranger than fiction. – Unknown

El-Hazard's most ancient records document an epoch known as the Age Of The Dark Moon, during which the satanic Nephilim ruled supreme. This race of fallen angels turned cruel, sickeningly decadent, superhuman vampires subjugated the human population. Not for many, many years would there be a blacker period in the Magnificent World's history.

Thankfully, the reign of terror came to an end. Help arrived in the form of the godlike Sandai- benevolent, mystic warrior-sorcerers who were said to have come from the stars. Utilizing their powerful magic, they annihilated the Nephilim and liberated the human race from an existence of slavery and torment. In a gesture of gratitude, the El-Hazardian people swore allegiance to the Sandai and installed them as their rulers.

Sandai leadership brought about unparalleled peace and prosperity. Under the guidance of these celestial visitors, highly advanced civilizations flourished as radical achievements in technology, art and thought swept through the inhabited world. This miraculous era was known as the Time of Marvels- El-Hazard's first New Age of scientific growth and spiritual development.

Little did anyone know that a most dire menace was surfacing. Crown Prince Zheverin of the Nephilim Royal House had survived the Sandai onslaught- the only one of his people to escape alive. Greatly distraught and infuriated by the eradication of his people and empire, the young nobleman swore vengeance.

Posing as a human, Zheverin apprenticed himself to the unsuspecting Sandai and penetrated their organization. While cleverly keeping up the charade, he discovered the Sandai strengths and weaknesses, clandestinely developing potent sorcery and formidable weaponry capable of defeating them and their human allies.

Zheverin secretly gathered together a cadre of fanatically loyal followers- a colony of warlike, bloodthirsty insect-beings- whom he painstakingly trained and equipped with the arms that he had invented. This formidable legion he christened 'Shadow Corps', and its soldiers 'Shadow Reavers'. Their standard, which would soon become synonymous with chaos and ruin, was a bloodied scythe.

Upon completing his preparations, Zheverin revealed his true identity and intentions, declaring all-out battle against the Sandai and human peoples. What was to be later known as the Great War had begun. Taking full advantage of their superior military hardware, Shadow Corps launched blistering, frighteningly successful assaults. Fighting valiantly against a foe tailor-made to outclass them, the Sandai and humans suffered heavily.

Desperate and on the brink of defeat, the Sandai introduced revolutionary new measures in a last-ditch attempt to turn the tide. First came the highly innovative Project Efreet that aimed at spawning an entire army of biomechanical super-soldiers more than capable of dealing with the Shadow Reavers. This venture had great promise, but eventually came to naught when the first prototype - Ifurita- was captured by Shadow Corps and unwillingly turned against her creators. The damage incurred was shocking- many fine cities were systematically reduced to rubble and thousands died before she was recovered.

The second trump card played by the Sandai was the construction of a redoubtable, state-of-the-art floating battle station that incorporated tremendous firepower capable of leveling entire countries - the Eye of God. This latest measure proved to be gruesomely effective. Shadow Corps was decimated by the Eye's awesome might.

The mighty super-weapon was not without its faults, though. A malfunction in the Eye's systems caused it to go berserk, opening immense black holes that devoured everything in their path. Timely rectifying efforts by the Sandai ensured that the disaster was confined to a relatively small locale and did not last long.

Still, the effects of the cataclysm were tremendous. Blasts of antimatter triggered severe seismic activity that created a vast chasm, which separated the aforementioned area from the rest of El-Hazard. Worse still, this region had been permanently blighted by insanely high levels of radiation released by the vortexes, and would never recover. The enormous gorge is known today as the River of God, and the creatures we call Bugrom, who rebuilt the ruins of a Sandai base and claimed it for their sanctum, now inhabit the barren wasteland lying across it.

Zheverin and his surviving Shadow Reavers mysteriously disappeared. It was later ascertained how they had met their dreadful fate - terrified and utterly helpless, clinging to whatever pitiful anchorage they could, facing the ravenous maw of a humungous inter-dimensional rift that had come into being directly over their final bolthole. Victory crowned the just, and the horrifying ordeal of the Great War ceased.

Nevertheless, the price of triumph was very high. Shadow Corps' attack had pulled up El-Hazard's vigorous nations by the roots. Even though they had endured the massacres, the desolation of their cities and countrysides reduced the few survivors to a bleak struggle for survival with little if any room for science, art or thought. In time, they lost all knowledge of their advanced skills, became savages and lived as such. The Magnificent World descended into primitivity.

No one knows how, why or when the Sandai vanished. Obscure records hint at a post-war power struggle among the remaining mages that culminated in a second firing of the Eye of God and their demise. The Phantom Tribe seconds this notion, claiming that the incident led to their arrival on El-Hazard. However, the crafty illusionists' statements cannot be taken at face value, and no overt evidence exists to prove that the fracas transpired at all. Whatever the cause of their baffling evanescence, the fact remains that the miraculous spell-casters' spiritual genetic constitution continues to run in the Roshtarian Royal Family.

So apocalyptic was the impact of the Great War that civilization was notoriously slow in returning to El-Hazard, today's medieval society emerging only over the course of a truly astounding ten millennia. As we already know, the tumultuous and potentially devastating Period of Warring States that occurred during this time span was quelled by the noble efforts of Grand Priestess Telessa, whose Elemental Church of formidable Priestesses was clearly modeled on the Sandai establishment. Subsequently, competent and benign headship ensured that tranquility reigned.

The landmark events stemming from the recent influx of Makoto Mizuhara, Katsuhiko Jinnai, Nanami Jinnai and Masamichi Fujisawa affected El-Hazard like no others, bar the Great War. Their arrival resulted in the reemergence of reminders of the past, including the long-dormant Demon Gods and Eye of God, the rise and fall of the Bugrom Empire, and the termination of the Phantom Tribe being a serious threat. For better or for worse, four individuals from another realm changed the Magnificent World forever.

Current events indicate that Zheverin and the missing Shadow Reavers, long presumed dead, have made a startling comeback. What lies in store? Only time will tell.

**END OF CHAPTER NINE **


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN: "NOT NECESSARILY TO OUR ADVANTAGE…"**

Surprise- the pith and marrow of war! – Admiral Sir Bruce Fraser

Dr. Schtalubaugh wore the expression of one whose world is being taken apart piece by piece and reassembled upside-down. He gazed up at the ceiling, lips moving soundlessly. At length, the aged intellectual looked over at Londs and croaked: "This is inconceivable! The initial firing of the Eye… the black holes… the anarchy and ruin… Zheverin and his lackeys could not possibly have survived!"

"All evidence at hand suggests that they have, Doctor," said Londs quietly. "Upon analyzing Shadow Corps and their exploits, even the most casual observer would be able to conclude that the blighters are tenacious, crafty and, above all, extremely lucky. It is by no means absurd to postulate that they somehow succeeded in cheating death."

Schtalubaugh paused to think. Then, he sighed: "I hate to admit it, Londs, but you may be right. I now realize that the possibility exists of the vortex merely beaming them to another plane of existence, where they were trapped until presently discovering a means of returning to El-Hazard."

"Yes, perhaps that is the most likely rationalization," replied Londs. "Supposing that we- but wait. Here come Princess Rune and Grand Priestess Telessa. Let us hear what they have to say."

Everybody sat stock-still and full of fearful anticipation as the majestic pair swept into the room. There was a resolute look in Rune's eye as she ascended the dais and launched into a dramatic speech.

"My steadfast helpers," she intoned somberly. "After pondering deeply the general trends obtaining in the realm today, I have decided to effect a settlement of the present situation by resorting to a radical decision. Grand Priestess Telessa and I have concluded that the Eye of God be used without delay if we are to stop Shadow Corps. The wisdom of unleashing such power unless under the direst of circumstances may seem questionable. However, with death on the march, our territories attacked and the countryside ravaged, a clearer definition of 'dire' is wanting. Moreover, a recent analysis has shown that apart from the Eye, nothing currently in any El-Hazardian arsenal can stand up to the enemy's crushing technological superiority."

Leaflets were distributed among all. These documents were reports penned by the rescue team dispatched by Dr. Schtalubaugh to Chula, which illustrated in great detail the terrible power of Shadow Corps' weaponry. Shayla was the only one who refused a copy. She had no intention of remembering the horrors that she had witnessed.

Never had anyone seen such a change as had been brought about in Varic subsequent to his inspecting the information provided. His face was ashen; beads of perspiration shone upon his brow and his hands trembled until the paper that they gripped wagged like a branch in the wind. Gone was his blustering, overbearing manner.

"Providence safeguard us," he mumbled. "Zanba and his men are already dead."

Even the unflappable Londs was taken aback. "I still find it unfeasible to believe that not anything we have is capable of dealing with the enemy," he exclaimed. "What of the Elemental Church's formidable Priestesses? Surely they with their miraculous powers can deliver us from this onslaught!"

"Records indicate that only the more powerful Sandai spells were of any good against Shadow Corps, High Chamberlain," clarified Telessa. "Since Elemental Magic is essentially an offshoot of Sandai Sorcery, this rule undoubtedly applies to the arts practiced by my order as well. The only individuals among the Priestesshood capable of such high magic are the four who are gathered here, and the perception that a quartet of holy warriors will suffice to keep Zheverin's entire army at bay is simply preposterous."

Londs sat quietly for a time, chewing Telessa's words over. At length, he signified his understanding.

After this most sobering read, the entire commission soon found themselves of the opinion that Rune's verdict was wholly reasonable. The youthful monarch nodded sternly upon receiving their unanimous consent.

"Should there be no further comments or enquiries, my assistants, I will declare the adjournment of this gathering," she stated.

As it stood, there were none.

"Very well, then," spoke Rune. "We leave for the Stairway to the Sky without further ado."

The legislature dissolved. On his way out of the hall, Varic caught up with Fujisawa and Miz, taking them to one side. He no longer looked shaken, but instead wore a submissive and contrite expression.

"Royal Champion, Priestess of Water," he murmured as he knelt before the couple, "I owe you a deep request for forgiveness, but must admit that, in truth, I deserve nothing but contempt. The both of you have proven to be right from the beginning, and I an impulsive and crass fool."

The reaction Varic received was- to him at least- beyond belief. His apology was casually waved away and he was bidden to rise.

"Forthrightly speaking," proclaimed Miz, "I, too, have an admission of guilt to make. My mind-set towards you during the dissertation, Baron, hardly befitted that of a lady, much less an Elemental Priestess."

"No hard feelings, Baron," smiled Fujisawa. "Let us put out of our minds that the episode ever transpired."

Varic did nothing but stare at his footwear, burble incoherent thanks and shuffle off quietly.

The passage by air-speeder to the Stairway to the Sky- the tall, column-shaped building that served as central component in operating and controlling the powerful weapon that was the Eye of God- was completely uneventful. Bar Grand Priestess Telessa, who stood alone at the ship's bow, all on board sat close to one another as if to seek support. None, however, felt like speaking- anxiety saturated the very air.

Upon arriving at the exquisitely decorated shrine built into the base of the lofty spire, the craft came to a halt, landed close by the structure and let down ramps to enable egress. Rune exited first, followed by the Elemental Priestesses and the other worthies. Only she and the sanctified ones accessed the building, however. Symbols of warning lead up to the foyer, signifying that only members of Roshtarian Royal House or the Elemental Church could enter.

Ascending to the apex via an elevator-like transporter beam, the quintet stepped onto the flat, circular podium that was the control nacelle. Rune took her position in the platform's center while Telessa and her protégées stood around her. The Priestesses fell into a hypnotic trance and proceeded to channel their supernatural energy to power the ancient machinery resting in the tower. A low, rumbling noise was heard and the Eye nearly blotted out the sun as they maneuvered it into attack position. Computer banks came to life as the Eye's security seal- the safeguard that prevented its use as a weapon- was broken.

Telessa was the first to break out of the spell. She maintained her composure, but the same could not be said for Miz, Shayla and Afura, who were visibly drained by their efforts.

"All is ready, your Majesty," said Telessa as she tended to her fatigued pupils.

Rune acknowledged and placed her palms on a nearby panel, which scanned her genetic code and confirmed her identity. Delving into the Eye's multifaceted mechanisms by means of thought alone; she established a mental interface with the colossal war machine and activated the advanced scanning equipment to begin her search for the enemy. Colors swirled before her eyes for a while, gradually fading away to be replaced with images of the battlefield where Count Zanba's task force met their gruesome end.

A survey of the location revealed a grisly sight. Within the ruins of the forts, Rune saw small and large clusters of corpses sprawled about in various grotesque postures of death. Many of them, partially buried under debris, looked puffed and glossy, like shiny sausages. All this was by no means pleasant to look at, but Rune found the scene at the air-speeders' crash sites far worse. She observed groups of bodies blackened by fire and others who had been shredded by the Shadow Reavers' lethal weapons. Even more abhorrent to the eye were the flattened forms of those who had been crushed by wreckage, lying on their backs with their torsos masses of ground meat.

Rune tried her best to come to grips with what she saw. The following reflection ran through her psyche: "There is no horror to these things. The first one you see is the only shock. The rest are simple repetition." She reported her findings to the Grand Priestess, expressing her befuddlement that conventional sensors- visual, thermal and motion detectors included- were not picking up any trace of their quarry within a radius exceeding one thousand miles.

"These circumstances are hardly surprising, your Majesty," pointed out Telessa. "Available records document the enemy's ability to shroud themselves from earthly tracking methods. Never fear- extra-physical sensors may aid us yet."

Taking this recommendation and renewing the hunt, Rune warned: "Grand Priestess, I sense strange movements in the magical energy spectrum. The signals are exceedingly faint and tracking them continuously is easier said than done. I cannot discern exactly what are moving out there, but I am certain of one thing: they are evil and drawing ever closer to Roshtaria."

"The foe have been pinpointed, your Majesty," said Telessa, wearing an expression that was a combination of triumph and loathing. "Now do what you must, for the sake of this world and all its denizens."

Fear took hold of Rune momentarily- the terror soldiers feel when they set eyes on their adversaries for the first time. This was swiftly replaced by a feeling that she had never experienced before- an overwhelming desire to ensure the destruction of the soulless brutes who had sent so many of her people and those of Roshtaria's allies to their deaths. A sensation of power crept through her as she glanced through the Eye's intricate head-up display, bringing with it a wonderful impression of satisfaction. Coolly and deliberately she trained the range finder on the distant targets and set the fire control in motion- only to be utterly flabbergasted when nothing happened.

The end result of Rune's seventh abortive retry could not have been more unexpected. Slowly, a message in glowing green Roshtarian script began to form before her eyes. This is what it read:

HASN'T THE FOLLOWING CONTEMPLATION CROSSED YOUR MIND- WHY OH WHY ARE MY FOLLOWERS AND I, WHO KNOW ALL TOO WELL THE AWESOME CAPABILITIES OF YOUR SUPER-WEAPON, RUNNING RIOT AS IF WE DID NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT IT STILL BEING AROUND? DOESN'T THE SWIFTNESS OF YOU GETTING THE DROP ON US SEEM A LITTLE INCONGRUOUS? DOESN'T YOUR COUP SEEM A LITTLE TOO EASILY ACHIEVED? IF SO, PONDER NO MORE. OUR OVERCONFIDENCE IS PERFECTLY JUSTIFIED- I'VE RENDERED YOUR BOTHERSOME HUNK OF JUNK UNWORKABLE. SMELL YOU LATER- YOUR PUTREFYING REMAINS, THAT IS!

ZHEVERIN CORITHRION (EMPEROR OF THE NEPHILIM AND COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF SHADOW CORPS)

Intense sadness and frustration were plain to see upon the faces of the Princess and the four Priestesses as they exited the Stairway and broke the awful news to their worried friends. Despondency and hopelessness descended on everybody upon hearing that their most effective means of impeding the advancing Shadow Corps juggernaut had failed. Rune's voice choked as she closed: "It would appear that the situation has developed not necessarily to our advantage."

"That's putting it very mildly," muttered Varic.

**END OF CHAPTER TEN******


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE TECHNOCRAT**

Innovations are my specialty. –Dr. Hugo Junkers

**Name: **Varic Trevenion

**Profession: **Roshtarian Baron and Chief of the Roshtarian Bureau of Aeronautics

**Sex: **Male (duh)

**Height: **6 feet 2 inches

**Weight:** 194 pounds

**Hair:** Reddish-brown, slightly graying in the back

**Eyes: **Gray

**Age: **55 years

**Physical description:** Varic is an imposing physical specimen. His long upper lip, bushy eyebrows and hair, steely eyes shooting furious glances when anything goes wrong, would not look out of place on a Celtic chieftain. He was once very athletic, but age has now coarsened his form.

**Dress code: **Spartan, earth-hued robes. Very occasionally wears Roshtarian military regalia.

**Personality: **Varic has a fiery disposition. As his daughter Nadaria once said: "My father is the most even-tempered man around- he is always in a rage." He usually sees no need for modesty, restraint, tact or even holding in check his fearsome temper. He never hesitates to bawl out defenseless subordinates in public and doles out praise and occasional apologies in small quantities in private. Only consistent competence can stave off a thunderbolt from this hardest of taskmasters, who believes unmistakably that he can do every job better than anyone else. He has to delegate, but there is no law to say that he should not enjoy it. Yet for those few who gain his trust and respect, Varic can never do enough.

**Past: **Varic was born in Roshtaria, shortly after his father had migrated there from the Southland to become a successful herbalist. He graduated second in his class at the Roshtarian Military Academy. By then, he already had a taste of action against the Bugrom three years earlier. It was around this time that the thirty-one-year-old lieutenant received a prize on a paper on combat tactics from the Roshtarian Military Institute.

During a major fracas with the Phantom Tribe eight years later, he was on the staff of the Roshtarian Expeditionary Force, with which he served alongside and forced alliances with the armed forces of several other El-Hazardian nations. He finished the conflict as a relatively youthful captain of thirty-nine, with two key decorations.

Throughout peacetime, Varic helped design a gunnery range-finder, commanded several cavalry divisions, experimented with tactical innovations and wrote a paper on the training and development of officers, still in use at present. He won great fame by introducing important reforms, which included the revolutionary territorial recruiting system.

When advanced military technology dating from the Great War began to be rediscovered, Varic, still a captain, saw a window of opportunity and jumped through it. The law wisely required commanders of reequipped units and stations to be qualified users of the newfound hardware. Naturally, none of the new breed of fighting men was senior enough for such a vacancy; Varic was, provided only that he could achieve his credentials, which he did handily when just short of fifty. He attained flag rank shortly after.

Varic reluctantly left the military to become chief of the Roshtarian Bureau of Aeronautics. He was the prime mover behind the development of Roshtarian airpower. Only government budgetary restraints on his department prevented him from doing more. Varic's phenomenal grasp of strategy, knowledge of detail, breadth of experience and forthright incisiveness made an abiding impression. In light of his achievements, Princess Rune Venus created him a Baron.

**Present:** Among the circle of Roshtarian political and military figures entrusted with formulating a means of dealing the impending threat posed by the newly returned Shadow Corps was our brilliant, self-indulgent bully of an administrator. As detailed in previous installments of our story, Varic's surprisingly poor decision-making nearly proved mortal for Roshtaria. It was a manifestation of profound incompetence all the more remarkable for being so rare in his outstanding career. In keeping with his hatred of ineptitude, Varic has been very hard on himself for almost committing a fatal error. He has sworn never to perform so foolishly again.

**Goals:** Firmly establishing Roshtaria's status as El-Hazard's greatest power.

**Likes:** Himself, his country, the Roshtarian military and liquor.

**Dislikes: **Incompetence, paperwork and Roshtaria's enemies.

**Hobbies: **Varic is an expert gambler and enjoys playing the El-Hazardian equivalent of polo.

**Abilities: **Varic has a profound knowledge of numerous paramilitary matters and skills. These include cryptography, marksmanship, all-weather and all-terrain combat operations, piloting of military vehicles, maintenance and repair of military hardware, espionage, interrogation, clandestine procedures and hand-to-hand combat. He is also well versed in physical sciences.

**Weaknesses:** Varic's only weaknesses are his impulsiveness and grandiosity.

**END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN**


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE: THE UNHOLY ALLIANCE**

The enemy of my enemy is my friend. – Scar, _Alien Versus Predator_

After the death of the charismatic Galus, leadership of the Phantom Tribe passed smoothly to his successor, the devious young warrior, Nahato. Here, the new chieftain relates his tribe's initial contact with Shadow Corps:

"The night was a depressing one. Word had reached me that eight of my people who had gone missing in a vicious skirmish with human troops during the afternoon were now prisoners of the infidels. Not knowing where they were being held, I could only pray for their safety. Never before had I felt so helpless.

"Out of the blue, someone shouted that our lost octet had returned. Hurrying outside, I saw to my astonishment that this was indeed the case. Even more amazing, they had survived their ordeal intact.

"My friends had a remarkable story to tell. They spoke of the outpost where they were being caged coming under attack from 'flying ghouls' who wiped out their captors in a stunningly gory slugfest, saved them and brought them home. At present, their strange rescuers were camped not far from our hideaway. They spoke the truth- their accounts were detailed and consistent.

"Intrigued, I consulted our resident oracle, asking him what he could reveal about the mysterious beings. After performing his ritual magic, our impeccable seer informed that they were of an ancient breed, newly returned to El-Hazard after a long period in exile. They prowled the earth like wolves, consuming everything human in their path. They wore impenetrable clothing, could turn invisible at will and possessed weapons that dealt instant death.

"These creatures had aided us, and it was only fair that we should seek them out and return the favor. In addition to this, there existed the possibility of forging an alliance with them. The fact that they, too, were enemies of the accursed humans and did a great job of exterminating them was sufficient reason for us to do so. With such a powerful faction as our allies, no rivals- like the Bugrom, for instance- would dare molest us.

"The entire tribe was supportive of my plan, and we established contact the following day. Fearsome though they were, these 'Shadow Reavers' of 'Shadow Corps' were amiably disposed towards us. Before long, they and my people were getting along like a house on fire.

"An audience with leader Zheverin and second-in-command Vaxagore was arranged. Zheverin was altogether an interesting if unusual individual. It struck me as odd that the Reavers were so loyal to him- one who was not of their own kind. I never found out why. To say that I felt uneasy in Vaxagore's presence would be a gross understatement.

"Zheverin and I conferred. As far as he could see, said he, what help or contributions the Phantom Tribe could offer to his grand agenda, 'Operation Phoenix', was difficult to discern. Nonetheless, he permitted us to tag along with his band until the opportunity arose for us to prove our worth. That was good enough for me, and the agreement was sealed.

"Thanks to this deal, my people and I were permitted to experience many extraordinary- even unique events. These episodes fully justified the aphorism 'There are things that could never be imagined, but there is nothing that may not happen.'"

**END OF CHAPTER TWELVE **


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A NEW HOPE**

Hope springs eternal. – Edmund Blackadder II

What could be done? All of Roshtaria's finest bar one spent the rest of the day with their heads in their hands, wondering what course of action to take, if at all. The lone exception to the rule was Grand Priestess Telessa, who had gone absent. After a long wait she returned, bearing a stunning piece of information.

"The sole means of solving this crisis in the brief time we have left has come to my knowledge," was her momentous proclamation.

The first to break out of a thunderstruck state at Telessa's announcement was Shayla. "Grand Priestess – you are serious, are you not?"

"This isn't exactly an occasion for mirth, disciple," replied Telessa dryly.

"But, my Lady, this is incredible news!" exclaimed Princess Rune, effectively summing up the feelings of all who were present. "In fact, it's the only good news we've received to date, and certainly lifts our flagging spirits!"

A glimmer of hope was sparked within the dignitaries' psyches. A mere flicker it may have been, but it was like a blinding, wonderful beacon to them, dispelling the oppressive darkness that permeated the very atmosphere. The possibility that the battle was not lost and that the tables could be turned began to materialize. Telessa allowed herself a smile of satisfaction upon seeing her comrades' positive reactions. She had achieved her secondary goal of boosting morale.

"Tell us what must be done, Grand Priestess," said Londs eagerly. "We have to know."

"Fortress Monad – the resting place of Archmage Kravex – must be located," said Telessa matter-of-factly.

"With all due respect, my Lady, the where and what of who?" asked a befuddled Fujisawa. The others, too, were all at sea.

"Arguably the greatest Sandai sorcerer of the all," explained Telessa, "Kravex acquired his prestigious title as a result of many brave and heroic deeds in combating the servants of darkness, vanquishing necrotic fiends and evil shades with his awesome powers. If any one individual existed whom Shadow Corps could consider their greatest adversary, it would be Kravex- he was a key figure in the Sandai-human coalition against them, had a familiarity with their arts and wiles that none else could claim and was largely responsible for orchestrating their defeat. Gravely wounded during the Great War's final strokes, Kravex was laid to recuperate within a secret stronghold, Fortress Monad, along with all his magical paraphernalia. Long forgotten, there he unquestionably still sleeps.

"It will be our task to find this place, which, by virtue of the magic it holds, is unquestionably still out there, immune to the ravages of time and other physical forces. Whatever we may need to take the fight to Shadow Corps and beat them – vital information, useful items or even the redoubtable Archmage himself – positively lies within its walls."

"A catch well worth pursuing," thought Miz aloud. "Where do we begin our search, Grand Priestess?"

Telessa produced from her pocket what appeared to be a thin, envelope-sized sheet of ice. Sandwiched between its transparent layers were lines of blood red writing, the characters resembling backward letters, regular letters and astrological symbols.

"This document I stumbled upon by pure chance within the Elemental Cathedral's archives," she said. "I have ascertained that its text contains the answer to your important question, Miz. However, the jottings are a total enigma – they are utterly unfathomable."

"The Grand Priestess is right," muttered Varic as he studied the weird etchings. "These directions to our goal are encrypted, and even the most cursory examination can glean that the cipher is a most fiendish one."

"Evidently, we will require a superior intellect to make sense of it," remarked Afura.

All eyes turned to look at Dr. Schtalubaugh. He returned their gaze and nodded grimly.

"I will not let any of you down," said he.

Entering his meticulous study, Schtalubaugh sat down at his circular desk of gleaming steel. A drink of brandy from a decanter that stood on the table served to steady his nerves. Flipping a switch, he caused a globe of blue-white light to hang motionless in the air above his to provide illumination. Then, he placed the cryptogram before him, subjected it to an intense scrutiny and applied his keen wits to the puzzle.

Over the next few hours, Schtalubaugh utilized every cipher-cracking skill at his disposal. He tried linear and route transposition. He examined the first and last halves of the code for a cyclic use of variants. He performed hand anagramming on the assumption that the cipher's hidden message was written backwards or in columns. He ran a sliding word through the code. He attempted reading it as first line forward and second line backward. He used concentrated anagramming - 'took, look, book, cook, shook, hook…' All his efforts turned up nothing.

"This is the most vexing conundrum I have ever had the misfortune to encounter," he thought. "Every conventional approach has failed to divulge its secrets." Mopping his brow, Schtalubaugh pondered on: "Such a situation calls for a change to unorthodox tactics."

The eight nobles were waiting anxiously outside Schtalubaugh's study when they heard a triumphant yell from within. The door to the room swung open and the doctor hurried out, looking haggard and drawn but exhilarated.

"I have solved the code," he declared breathlessly.

Everyone crowded round to hear what he had discovered and how he had done it. Schtalubaugh indicated the detailed notes and drafts that he had made of his solution, these papers proving it generally valid and substantially accurate.

"The hieroglyphs do not denote a place-name, or anything of the sort," he explained. "They are actually letters and numbers laid out in algebraic fashion on a graph with the graph being laid out in a north-south to east-west grid on principal places and landmarks in El-Hazard, with random symbols being inserted as a filler to make the lines of cipher come out even in respect to characters per line.

"Working on this conclusion, we can see that the runes consist of coordinates followed by numerals after the decimal point. Thus, they stand for degrees of latitude and longitude – latitude and longitude are customarily given as a series of numbers followed by a letter, in degrees, minutes and seconds.

"I would, after translation, use a map of El-Hazard dating form the period just after the Great War to plot the isogonics lines properly, inasmuch as the code was devised during this ear and the locations of the world's magnetic poles do change slightly from year to year. This can be used after compensating for deviation and variation on a magnetic compass to pinpoint a location to within sixty feet, plus or minus. Done in mathematical fashion, the accuracy of the graph could easily earmark the Fortress' whereabouts to a specific point in a specific area. Is such a map available?"

Once the accolades had died down, Telessa handed Schtalubaugh the item that he needed. Accepting it gratefully, he returned to his study and began plotting the Fortress' position. Somewhat later, he emerged with the long-awaited answer.

"Fortress Monad lies across the River of God, deep within the Bugrom Territory, five hundred miles southwest of the insect-beings citadel," reported Schtalubaugh.

The elderly academic requested that he be taken off duty for a full day to rest his exhausted mind. Everyone could not but agree. Schtalubaugh's performance had been truly astonishing, and he certainly deserved a break.

"An expedition to the Fortress is in order," beamed Rune. "There's not a moment to lose!"

The glimmer of hope was now a blazing torch.

**END OF CHAPTER THIRTEEN**


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: HOT CRIMSON NIGHTS**

Now we see the fun. Watch for the fireworks! – Otto Brandt, _Biggles Flies East_

Among the few people to witness Shadow Corps' tremendous combat capability and live were Nahato and the Phantom Tribe. In this installment, the young chieftain describes the evil soldiery's conquest of northern El-Hazard's military machine. Read on…

"Come nightfall, my people and I ascended whatever high ground we could find and watched the Shadow Reavers doing their deadly work. When they were at it, everything stopped while solid streams of violent red poured out of the black sky.

"When we watched from a great distance, these resembled long, scarlet feelers probing the dark. They laid an eerie light on anything within their range, which seemed to be made still, like figures caught in a game of living statues. Whenever they found their mark, orange and gray smoking explosions would blossom. The streams occasionally dried up between bursts, vanishing slowly from air to ground like comet tails, the sound of the guns disappearing, too, a few seconds later.

"When we watched from close range, a feeling of wonder and horror crept through us. Believe it or not, we even cultivated something of sympathy for the humans caught on the receiving end of those terrible barrages. They were breathtaking and deeply dreadful, and I'd hear my people talking, watching it and yelling 'Get some!' until they grew quiet and someone would say, 'The Reavers understand.'

"Considering the strength of the bombardment, it was indeed amazing that return fire would occasionally come. The humans tried to locate invisible Reavers by attempting to ascertain where the Reavers' shots were coming from. But this tactic was of no good, for when the Reavers rendered themselves undetectable, the ordnance that they fired also became unseen. This was the most devious trick we ever had the privilege to witness.

"Dawn invariably revealed a macabre spectacle. All over there were shattered trees and smoking craters. Amid the blackened, smoking patches of ground, the tangled and twisted bodies of human soldiers were strewn about in disorder. On steep slopes lay hundreds of corpses. Many of these were ripped open, exposing their insides. In some places, the cadavers were stacked like cordwood, twelve feet high. Our enemies had not been defeated- they had been pulverized.

"It was indeed comforting to know that the Reavers were on our side and not in opposition to us.'"

**END OF CHAPTER FOURTEEN**


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: HOMECOMING**

How can you see into my eyes like open doors... leading you down into my core, where I've become so numb... Without a soul, my spirit sleeping somewhere cold... until you find it there and lead it... back home. - Evanescence, _Bring Me To Life_

Princess Rune found Makoto sitting on a grassy hillside overlooking the palace's east wing, painting a wonderfully realistic portrait of his lost beloved. She was glad to see that he was attempting to channel his grief via this safe pursuit instead of drowning the sadness in rivers of wine. At the same time, however, Rune was doubtful that painting would be any more helpful than drinking where healing Makoto's tortured psyche was concerned.

Makoto's face was hard and lined with fatigue and with the tightness with which he fought this lethargy. His eyes stared inwards on himself. He was as remote and removed as the Celestial Plane. The young man seemed to be removed from human experience; it was as though he had gone through pain and had come out on the other side. It pained Rune to have to trouble him in light of his condition, but she had no choice.

Rune's voice was gentle as she swiftly filled Makoto in on current events. For a while she fell silent, then roused herself once more and looked at him imploringly.

"Grand Priestess Telessa is embarking for Fortress Monad, and she has requested that you accompany her, for your extraordinary ability to freely control the technology of ancient El-Hazard – the technology of the Sandai – will be an invaluable asset to the mission," spoke Rune. "The Gods know that the others and I have no wish to bring you more hardship, but we are left with no alternative. Your help is needed, Makoto, and we need it desperately. The enemy have the upper hand now, and your assistance may swing the matter in our favor. Please say you will come."

A long time had passed since Makoto stood petrified before the terrible tableau in his dreadful nightmare. Now, the full horror of it seized his soul again, and like a boreal blast, Rune's words galvanised him into action.

An indescribable conflict of emotions filled his breast as he fervently replied: "Princess, can you doubt it?" Getting to his feet, he continued in a quiet but purposeful tone: "Ifurita may be beyond my reach, but I can at least honor her by bearing the burden she once bore - the duty of protecting this wonderful and miraculous realm, which she and I both love and consider willing to lay down our lives for."

Rune fought hard to hold back tears of gratitude as she took Makoto's hand and led him to where the Grand Priestess and the rest of Roshtaria's finest were in conclave.

**END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN**


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: KILLING FIELDS**

Bodies fill the fields I see. The slaughter never ends. – Lars Ulrich, _Disposable Heroes_

"We closed in on the cities," wrote Nahato in his journal regarding his tribe's latest bloody escapades with Shadow Corps. "The sight I saw was amazing. There were literally hundreds and hundreds of people fleeing the area, any way they could. Panic. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. They were leaving in air-speeders, slogging on foot, anything. We were receiving no resistance at that point and were just killing everybody.

"It turned into a turkey shoot. They were defenseless. There were squads of Reavers working the area. Multitudes of people were being mowed down. Bodies were floating in the rivers. Insane.

"I was in there with the best of them. Blowing people off the air-speeders, out of the fields, down from the trees with the aid of my powers and several captured firearms. Bloodlust. I can't think of a better was to describe it. Caught up in the moment. I remember thinking this insane thought, that I'm a god and dishing out divine retribution. It was a slaughter. No better than lining people up on the edge of a ditch and shooting them in the back of the head. I was doing it enthusiastically.

"You begin to understand how genocide takes place. I consider myself a decent fellow, but I did play no small role in massacring those people. I tried to compensate in my head that most of the people we were wasting were the enemy, the ones who had made life hell for us in the past. But I could appreciate in a black way that you can take anybody given the right circumstances and turn him into a wholesale killer. That's what I was. I did it. Bizarre. It was very bizarre."

**END OF CHAPTER SIXTEEN**


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE VOYAGE OUT**

The Ways of God, as in Providence, are not as _our_ ways; nor are the models that we frame in any way commensurate to the vastness, profundity and inscrutability of His works, _which have a depth in them greater than the well of Democritus_. – Joseph Glanville

No more than half an hour after the events of Chapter Fifteen, Makoto and Telessa departed with the blessings of all their friends ringing in their ears. Before long, they were soaring over the River of God. The immense waterway stretched more than six thousand miles, so that one end knew day while the other endured night. Temperature differences bred winds that herded oceans of fog over the water-filled chasm, which was at least two hundred and fifty fathoms deep. Makoto had been here before, but the fact that he now knew the River's origins made him see it in a new light and invoked a sense of terror in his mind – terror at the Eye of God's immense power.

The southward portion of the journey was uneventful to the extent of monotony. When the time came to make the great southwesterly turn, however, the calmness ceased. Makoto and Telessa became eyewitnesses to awesome displays of Nature's power.

The sky blackened and came alive with tremendous bursts of lightning. Rain beat down like innumerable war-hammers and the sphere of air serving as Makoto and Telessa's mode of transport was buffeted by forceful winds that howled like tortured souls. Telessa was triumphant in staving off the strong air currents but the lightning bothered her, and she descended to wave-top altitude as an evasive measure. The river's colossal waters then reared their heads above the duo like humungous demons of the deep, but before Telessa's magic, they were like demons confined to simple threats, and unable to destroy.

It was Makoto who spotted the surf heaving beneath them and shouted a warning. Telessa swiftly raised her hands and bathed the sphere in a protective, element-repelling aura of great energy. She acted not a moment too soon – an enormous waterspout erupted around them a split second afterwards.

The sphere gave a wild lurch to starboard. Blind panic gripped Makoto and, for some seconds, he clung tightly to the hem of Telessa's robe, not daring to open his eyes. Then, he took courage and joined her in looking once again on the scene.

Never would Makoto forget the sensation of horror, amazement and admiration with which he gazed about them. The sphere appeared to be hanging midway down upon the interior surface of a funnel vast in circumference and prodigious in depth. This shaft's perfectly smooth sides might have been mistaken for ebony but for the bewildering rapidity with which they spun around and for the gleaming and ghastly radiance that they shot forth, as the rays of the moon – it was nighttime by now – streamed from a circular rift in the clouds above in a flood of golden glory along the black walls and far away down into the abyss' deepest reaches.

Telessa showed not a shred of doubt or fatigue as she kept the raging vortex at bay with her sorcerous might. For a moment she stood quietly, as if waiting for an ideal moment. Then, with a broad sweep of her arms, she imbued the pillar of water with the purifying spirit of fire and transmuted it into an immense cloud of steam, which she dispelled in the blink of an eye by conjuring up a brief but intense gale.

Makoto was left speechless upon witnessing Telessa's prowess, but inwardly groused about not having a camcorder to immortalize the remarkable feat on video. The weather abruptly cleared and all became tranquil once again – it was almost as if Mother Nature herself was impressed by what had happened. The way to Fortress Monad was now clear.

**END OF CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**


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